Dominate Me
by TheManxomeFoe
Summary: "Russia was going to conquer the world, this much was certain." Soviet Russia x Lithuania, Mild BDSM


**Just some male x male smut between Russia and Lithuania. If this disturbs you, then I honestly have no idea why you clicked on the link in the first place, but I would suggest you hit the back arrow in the top left corner of your browser.**

**Warnings for some domination/abuse of power, and mild BDSM (really it's not as bad as some of the stuff I've seen on the internet). Also dub-con if you look closely.**

**The characters may also be a little OOC depending on your own personal interpretations. **

**This fic portrays BDSM in somewhat of a negative light. I have no problems with such relationships at all. As long as what you are doing is safe, consensual, and satisfying for everyone involved than you should be as kinky as you like.**

**I just enjoy making characters suffer. It's kind of my literary fetish.**

* * *

Russia was going to conquer the world; this much was certain.

The dust that rose when the Iron Curtain fell had long settled. A new world order after the war… The Soviet Union, led by the world's largest nation, spreading its influence across the world, forcibly at times.

Eastern Europe, Asia. All red.

There were whispers too, that the communists were going to take over Cuba. The implications spelt sure distress for the plucky Western nation Russia decorated with crosshairs on his every map.

In his grand republic, the Russian was widely admired. The epitome of masculine perfection. Broad shoulders and a muscular frame. Sandy blond hair and wide lavender eyes. Some might have claimed his appearance possessed an aura of benign innocence, yet every oppressed country beneath his heel would deny such statements as absolutely inaccurate. Truthfully, they would attest, his wholesome smile concealed a malicious and childish sadism that became the source of countless human casualties behind the curtain.

To the immortal Russia, human life was expendable.

But through his every campaign, he was accompanied by his most-pathetic aide, the insignificant Lithuania. Beside Russia, he was nothing. Thin. Weak. He struggled beneath the burden of a gun because they were heavier than the world.

A fool the Lithuanian was.

Yet Russia always insisted on his constant presence, even in the most private of moments.

There was nothing tangibly amiss about the smaller country's behaviour, though the Soviet moral elite loathed him still. Perhaps it was his very blind obedience to the superior nation- when so many others reviled him in vociferous silence- that raised questions regarding his "preferences."

Despite their more innocent abuses- scathing murmurs and cruel remarks upon his entrance- they never escalated to violence. At least not again, for the last time the frigid Russian assailed them with such wrath many members of his Central Committee never returned, their fates unknown.

They didn't want to upset their master.

Though the hostility towards Lithuania never did cease. The communists thought him "Russia's pet.

Lithuania silently danced along the familiar path to Russia's chambers. His heart pounded, and every minute sound, even the slightest creak of the wooden walls compelled him to start as if he were a frightened cat.

He _could_ _not_ be caught. These late night trysts were a danger to everything he and Russia had accomplished, to everything they would accomplish in the future, yet Lithuania could not control himself. He was addicted.

He risked the lightest rap of his fist on the door. He risked a brief and paranoid glance behind him. Once he finally felt assured he was alone in the hallway, the brunette slowly twisted the knob and slipped inside Russia's room.

The strong young man was seated at his desk, focused intently on the papers before him. Russia's pen scratched across paper, his expression very solemn. His stately appearance flustered the brunette, and he disremembered, for a moment, all secrecy, staring with mouth agape and door ajar. The candlelight flickered with his every breath. Expanding and contracting, expanding and contracting….

Breathing _in and out, in and out_…

He forced himself to focus. Russia waved a hand in his direction.

"Shut the door," he said commandingly without looking up from his writing. "And lock it." Lithuania could barely contain his anticipation; he knew exactly what to expect.

He loved it when Russia was like this.

The smaller man twisted slowly.

_Teasingly._

Russia had fallen to his knees, head bowed, glancing sheepishly at the ground.

"Was I good, master?"

Lithuania sighed. Russia's need for approval could be so exhausting at times. "Yes, pet." He moved forward and patted the top of his head. "You were quite good."

Russia smiled faintly as the smaller man settled at his desk. The brunette adjusted the candle, and grasped the assortment of papers on the surface. Reports on the latest developments in military technology, translated into Lithuanian by hand, the ink still damp.

"Undress." Spoken sweetly, yet a command regardless. The blonde removed his shirt and clumsily kicked off his pants, still kneeling, while his master began to read.

"I'm waiting, pet," he said to the other man, static on the floor. Russia blinked and nodded profusely, shuffling towards the chair and taking his place between Lithuania's legs. He unbuttoned the brunette's trousers and pulled down the clothing and undergarments to his calves, exposing pallid skin.

He started with the knee, trailing soft and tender kisses from the joint and the past the thighs, tracing the protrusion of his pelvic bone with his tongue's tip.

The quiet sigh of his master fuelled his passion. He repeated his ministrations on the other leg, and paused, just centimetres away from the half-hard cock of his master. Inhaling the intoxicating musk, Russia whimpered. He grasped it in his hand, and administered a few strokes to bring it to full stiffness. Rubbing the thick member against his cheek, the blonde moaned, more for his master's satisfaction than anything else.

Any hesitation, any shame, was forgotten and the Russian plunged headfirst onto the other's manhood. Vigorously, he bathed it with his tongue before wrapping it with his lips.

He gradually pushed his head down as best he could, flattening his tongue and sucking in approximately three-fourths of the length. Pulling back, he released Lithuania's cock with a resounding pop. He nibbled tenderly on the side for but a moment- an excuse, honestly, to catch his breath- and returned to his labours.

Rapidly, he flicked his tongue back and forth over the stretch of skin- right where the head joined the shaft. Russia knew how the Lithuanian would react: drove him wild. The brunette groaned wantonly, and shoved the documents haphazardly on Russia's desk, executive duties made irrelevant.

"On the bed," Lithuania demanded, and his subordinate was eager to comply. Gingerly, he crawled onto the mattress, and laid back, impassive as he stared at the ceiling.

"I meant on your stomach, you dumb slut." The furious tone was jarring, but the blonde shifted the manner his master desired. He worried he had somehow angered the Lithuanian.

He didn't want to upset his master.

The chilling sensation of a riding crop stroking his thighs, elicited from the stronger male a premature sob. He folded his hands below his chest and raised his hips, resigned.

Now, some might claim the first sting of a whip is the worst part, yet the blonde understood from experience that this was not so.

_Strike _after_ strike _after_ strike_; Lithuania was merciless indeed. Russia bit his lips so hard he feared his teeth would break the skin. Sobs wracked his body, while everything _burned_: his thighs, his ass, his back, even his testes.

The worst part? The Russian was painfully, shamefully aroused.

His master must have become bored with the riding crop, for the next touch he felt on his body was that of his master's hand, grazing the angry red stains of Russia's skin.

"Look at what a pathetic whore you are. A true man- a true nation would fight back!" Small but strong hands gripped the blonde's hips.

Were it any other person, Russia would. But not Lithuania.

He felt the hot tip of the brunette's cock rubbing against his hole. The Lithuanian wanted him to beg.

"Fuck me. Please." He meant every word.

And that simply the smaller male was thrusting inside Russia. His mind was hazy with lust, and he could no longer sense the pain in his backside. He could no longer sense a lot of things, truthfully. Just Lithuania moving in and out, in and out of him. Filling him up completely with pure pleasure and elation and meaning. He spilled his feelings in a rush on the mattress. When Lithuania released his own pleasure, Russia could only wonder what his emotions his bliss held.

He crawled beneath the blankets mutely, bundling himself in the coarse material.

"Pet." A tap at his shoulder. The voice strictly business.

"Poland has grown belligerent. Tomorrow, you shall pay him a visit. Remind him the consequences of dissent in our glorious Soviet dominion." The brunette placed the riding crop in his pet's palm. "Subdue him forcefully, if you must." Russia mentally disregarded the nauseating implications; instead absorbing the Lithuanian's every phoneme, void of meaning.

Lithuania rose, gathering his garments from the floor. Russia's dissatisfaction was obvious- he whined low in his throat to express it- and the brunette sighed as he shrugged on his clothing. Fully dressed, he turned once more in the direction of the bed and leaned down, close enough for the Russian to feel his warm breath against his brow. His head cradled in his master's hands, he received a gentle peck to the bridge of his nose. His gaze locked on Russia's mouth, and their lips brushed together deliciously. Essentially the opposite of their interactions just moments ago. Russia accepted the kiss with avarice, lapping it up and probing with his tongue, unlike his submissive role. He fisted his fingers into the cotton fabric of his master's shirt, pulling him closer because he wanted _more_.

It was over much too soon.

'_Don't leave. Please.'_

The words danced violently in Russia's head, but his mouth refused to form them.

It was a foolish thought, for Lithuania would always leave. It was invariable. Understandable. If someone should see, everything they had worked for would be ruined.

'_I wish you cared about me. Just a little bit.'_

Lithuania was already gone.

The blonde reached into the drawer of his nightstand and grabbed a cigar. One of Cuba's finest. He fumbled a tad with his lighter. The blonde raised the blunt to his lips slowly, wearily.

He didn't want to beg, nor did he want to command. The Russian had no quarrel with the capitalist countries, and actually found them quite amusing, especially America. To think he once aspired to be the nation's mentor, when the lad was young and newly independent! How times have changed!

Truthfully, Russia hated the things he did. Unspeakable, terrible things. Sometimes he felt hopelessly sick.

'_Am I prepared to walk this path? For him?'_

All he wanted was to love and be loved- no harm, no lies, no games. Just the two of them. Together.

But the insignificant Lithuania wanted to own the world, and God be damned if Russia wouldn't give it to him.

* * *

**Happiness, you say? Happiness! There can be no happiness! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!**

**…**

**Derp.**

**…**

**I'M NOT WEIRD. THE INTERNET SAYS IT'S OKAY.**

**~Manx**


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